Passage #35-38 When Caroline Meeber boarded the afternoon train for Chicago, her total outfit consisted of a small trunk, a cheap imitation alligator-skin satchel, a small lunch in a paper box, and a yellow leather snap purse, 35 , and four dollars in money. It was in August, 1889. She was eighteen years of age, bright, timid, and 36 . Whatever touch of regret at parting characterized her thoughts, it was certainly not for advantages now being given up. A gush of tears at her
mother's farewell kiss, a touch in her throat when the cars clacked by the flour mill where her father worked by the day, a pathetic sigh 37 , and the threads which bound her so lightly to girlhood and home were irretrievably broken. To be sure there was always the next station, where one might descend and return. There was the great city, bound more closely by these very trains which came up daily. Columbia City was not so very far away, even once she was in Chicago. What, pray, is a few hours—a few hundred miles? She looked at the little slip bearing her sister's address and wondered. She gazed at the green landscape, now passing in swift review, 38 .
#35-38 Phrase Bank
(A) until her swifter thoughts replaced its impression with vague conjectures of what Chicago might be
(B) containing her ticket, a scrap of paper with her sister's address in Van Buren Street
(C) full of the illusions of ignorance and youth
(D) as the familiar green environs of the village passed in review
【題組】38
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